


Wait

by November_Leaving



Series: Experience [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Confusion, Depression, Didn't know Cap was so lustful, Discovering something new, F/M, Feelings, I wish I knew how to better tag this, Making sense of it all, Miscommunication, Oh the possibilities, Or sensual, Original Female Character - Freeform, POC Reader, Reader Insert, Secrets, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Strengthening of a relationship, The want for something more, There's some love there, hope you know what POC means, the reason, well an attempt that is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 10:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18659062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/November_Leaving/pseuds/November_Leaving
Summary: You knew this feeling. This insidious, encroaching swell that pounded in your chest and draped your mind in sheer darkness.As pieces broke and shifted within, you watched him. His body straightened in the small space as you steeled yourself against the inevitable. It was bound to happen. It always did.





	Wait

**Author's Note:**

> 100% Not beta'ed. I was sitting at work with nothing to do for once so this just flowed out.
> 
> Please note that there's some negative self-talk that may be triggering. Thanks everyone!

You knew this feeling. This insidious, encroaching swell that pounded in your chest and draped your mind in sheer darkness.

As pieces broke and shifted within, you watched him. His body straightened in the small space as you steeled yourself against the inevitable. It was bound to happen. It always did.

You watched him as he turned from the sink, throwing the dish towel aside.

“What’s going on?”

“Dunno. You tell me,” Your lips pressed firm in a smirk as you fought against sobs.

“Seriously, I don’t know.” He  sighed as he slumped against your kitchen sink. It took every fiber of your being to stay hard as your love for him screamed to come forward.

Move forward, break in five moves.

That’s how it went. Why would he be any different? You always fucked up. They always saw how pointless you were. Your inner demons gnawed and gnashed at your heart, belly, psyche, and all the other pieces you allowed it.

“I mean, come on. Seriously, let’s be realistic.” The sneer that dripped passed your lips was impeccable as your inner happiness shouted to stop it.

 _Just stop it_.

“I don’t understand.”

It took everything in you to not holler all your inadequacies.

_I’m insecure._

_I’m ugly._

_I’m stupid._

_I’m worthless._

_I’m nothing._

_I’ll never be good enough._  

“Steve, stop playing dumb. We both know what’s going on. I’m just the idiot who didn’t see it sooner.” You leaned further into the counter behind you.

His delicately strong fingers pushed through his lush hair as he sighed audibly.

_There it is. There’s the disappointment you bring. You always bring failure._

He walked hesitantly towards you, murmuring your name. Your heart broke as your limbs and flesh screamed and ached. Ached to have him hold you. You needed him to shut your mind up but then again...your mind was always correct in its judgments.

Muttering your name again, he stopped within a foot of your personal space. Your innards cried and screeched for him while your face set cold and judging.

“What?"

Fuck your stupid tears that burned behind your eyes.

He didn’t want your touch. A few short moments ago, he stiffened as you wrapped your arm around him while he was cleaning the sparse dishes you had. He moved out of your embrace, smiling it off.

And this wasn’t the first time you’ve noticed him shrink from your touch. Whereas before you couldn’t keep him from reaching towards you, brushing against your fingertips, and humming against your neck as he pressed kisses - now the distance he put between you both was deafening. This man who brightened your life and helped you see the best in yourself now was disgusted with you.

No more swaying to Motown and Chess Records artists. No more lazy days spent in bed or wrapped up in a sea of blankets on the couch. No more being held. FUCK! No more naps on rainy days with him.

Why do people always figure out how pointless you are? They always learn.

That prescient tension of all your depressing deficiencies grabbed you and steadied you as you refocused your intentions.

_How could he be any different? He’s Steven G. Rogers. He’s Captain America. And you’re nothing at all._

“Please don’t cry.” His warm fingers reached towards your face before you cocked an eyebrow in your oh-so-defiant way. They twitched before he pulled himself together (pulled his fingers back), sturdy and prepared.

_Ah, Cap wants to play today._

God, you hated your depression.

It was rebellious and firm and consistent and unwavering unlike yourself. You knew this would happen. You warned him time and again. You gave him ample chances to run and hide.

And, you loved him.

You wanted him. You needed him. It’s so strange yet comforting to feel that strenuous pull of happiness and practical fear.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare.” And there goes your voice, warbling as you succumbed  to him.

Again did your name whisper passed his lips as his eyes dropped from your glare. You, too, bowed your head.

“Do you think I’m ashamed of you?”

_Obviously! What sort of idiot do you think I am?_

“I don’t. If anything, I am. I should have known better.”

Startled, your eyes bore into his dark blues. How could he say such a thing? “What...”

“I’m not ashamed of you. I mean it. I always failed at this.” Sighing, the blond who stood before you.

You watched him, waiting for him to laugh at you. But he didn’t.

“What do you mean?” Darkness be damned. When it came to this man, you’d forever comfort and love him - even if he didn’t feel the same towards you.

“I’m not good.”

Tearful eyes blinked rapidly. He tentatively leaned moved forward. You felt him staring intently at you. Somehow, some way you managed to raise your head, locking into his pleading gaze. You didn’t object to him. Slowly still did he approach you; soon his hands were pressed against the countertop on either side of you.

“I mean...I don’t. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been good at this. I’ve never been good enough to get to this point.”

_Wait. What?_

“I don’t understand. You’re great at this. I’m the one who -” You cut yourself off.

“Don’t you dare put yourself down.” He pressed his forehead against yours.

The dark resolve within shuddered, daring itself to crumble.

You attempted to say something - anything at all but you felt some sense of self. You felt that better self - that hurt self who needed support and recognized that he was the one for you.

“I don’t get it.” Your voice was heavy with doubt and hope. “You were here and now you’re not so...of course you hate me.”

Eyes fluttered close, you waited.

“I am here.”

And off you went. “Fuck you, you’ve been here! Really?” You shoved him away. And by shove, you barely nudged his solid body away from you.

“Yes. I’m still here.”

“Like you were here last weekend when you said you didn’t have any trainings, reports, meetings, debriefings - avenging yet shot out of here like a bat outta hell? Like you were here two weeks ago when I tried to teach you how to make cinnamon rolls but each and every time I got close, you jumped or shuddered or just plain moved away from me? Like how you don’t sit on the same couch with me?”

Pulling back, Steve glared harshly towards you. “I was here!”

“Right! You were! On the other goddamn side of the fucking couch. I get it! I get it! I’m some dumb bitch who fell for you. I’m just some black fetish for you. Get the fuck out of my house!” Deep within, your growl sounded.

His crystal eyes shifted darker in a way that you could only assume yours do when you spiral. Guilt. Shame.

Just as you thought. You were nothing to him. You were a placeholder - if that! He turned away from you.

_Told you. No one wants just you. You are nothing but a burden._

The whole room stilled as it usually did just before you let your inner self-hatred unleash towards others. As the exacting words of his undoing (and your unravelling, ultimately) began to form, poised and ready at your lips, Steve suddenly pivoted, pulled you close. He pressed his forehead towards yours.

You looked up at him, shocked, as he arms snaked around your shoulders. Though barely perceptible, his body trembled.

“You aren’t that. You aren’t that at all.” Your name fell from his lips again, begging and sorrowful. “I’m not using you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

_Wait. What?_

Yeah. This wasn’t in your depression’s plans or future. You stood stunned, arms held tight against your body.

“I’m sorry.”

Shaking your head, you attempted to gain footing. “I don’t. I don’t understand.”

“I’m not using you.” His body folded around you as best it could. His shoulders hunched as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. He muttered something into your skin.

Pulling back, you gingerly placed your hands on either side of his jaw. “Steve, what is going on, love?” _Well that wasn’t something you was prepared to share._  

Flushed, his eyes remained on the floor. He took your hands, pulling you towards the couch.

That damned couch. It was once the best place in your apartment when he was around. So many nights talking, watching movies, listening to music, or reading while he quietly did work or drew. 

He guided you to sit down as he sat down next to you - right next to you. You couldn’t look at him as your body tensed. You were no longer readying yourself for a battle and break-up; however, your muscles remain taut as you prepared for the unknown. Seriously, what the hell was going on?

The soft orange glow from your kitchen light barely illuminated the living room. The open blinds showed the setting sun darkening the sky beyond. You attempted to focus on that and not this beautiful man who was apologizing to your insecure anger.

He shifted beside you but refrained from reaching out. 

“I’m so sorry you think I’m using you. I’m not. You gotta know that I’m - I’ve never gotten to this point before. I was pitied and strung along. I was set up and let down by the dates Bucky tried to set me up with. No one ever wanted me when I was just Steve yet, when I became Captain America, I was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. All I ever wanted was to serve and protect. But I ended up surrounded by women who wanted this body and not me.” 

Pulling your oversized sweatshirt (Shit. It was his shirt. Yeah. Your depression really knew how to lay it on thick in case this breakup happened) closer, you slowed your breathing. Turning towards him, you silently watched as he struggled to find the right words.

Never had he seems so unsure of himself. Steve rarely fidgeted when put on the spot and definitely never alone with you. During deserving fights over trivial relationship quirks or his terrifying flashbacks, Steve tended to stay true to himself, firm and at the ready. Yet, in this moment, he never looked so small and uncomfortable.

Maybe this was what he was like way, way back when.

He twisted a seam on the armrest with his mouth pressed in a thin line.

“And then I starting fighting and fighting and doing what I always wanted to do.”

Muscle memory kicked in as you tucked your legs beneath you, pivoting closer towards him. Your left arm slung across the back of the couch as your fingers brushed against the nape of his neck. He sank into you instantly. Without hesitation, you curled your arm around him and held him gently. Your right arm wrapped around the rest of his warm body.

This was normal and fitting. He loved being held as much as you did. Sadly, in the last few weeks, this occurrence had decreased. You sorta forgot what it feels like to hold him.

“Things are so different now and yet not. I don’t think you’re a novelty or something to check off of a list. I enjoy you - all of you. I need to be around you. I love watching you cook. I cherish just laying in bed with you and the windows are wide open as we listen to the rain. I appreciate the way you swing and sway to the music. I savor how you care about me - just me.”

Something was shifting. “Stevie G,” you whispered.

He turned his head so that his lips grazed the collar of the shirt. “I relish the sound of your voice as you say my name. I revel in you.”

Your body felt heavy and warm. His hands settled on your hips. “I adore the weight of you in my arms as you fall asleep.” 

His solid arms pulled you closer as his nose nuzzled your neck. He inhaled deeply. “And your smell. I don’t know what it is but you always smell like perfection.” 

The smile that graced your lips couldn’t be helped. Your name was uttered and, oh dear, was it sinful. Did he know what sin was?

“Everything you do, I celebrate. You always entrance and entice me no matter what. I just need to find ways to trace your everything on paper.”

What can only be described as a whimper breathed passed your lips as his palms dragged up your side and pressed against your back.

 “I adore you.” He whispered into your ear as your hands found the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “I -” His hands faltered before he groaned.

“What? Please tell me.”

“I want you. Believe me, I want you.” It couldn’t be helped. Your body responded to his voice as it became a moan.

“I want you too. I’m just not -” Before you could finish your self-deprecating sentence, Steve’s mouth found yours. Only he could kiss with wantonness and reverence; with respect and unrestraint; lust and love.

His lips pressed, caressed, and molded around yours as he pressed into you. Just as you felt the stirring of his full want, Steve pushed away. 

Lowly did you growl.

He turned away. “You know how I feel. I’m working on this but I’m not from this time. This next step...it’s everything.”

“At least you know better than to bed the colored girl for fun. Good on you, Cap. You’re not as despicable as the rest.”

How many stories, anecdotes, plays, and such have you read that described this sudden shift in the air - an elec tricity that was so subtly humming now buzzed incessantly? Your body felt his energy as it shifted to anger. Was this what it was like to face Steven G. Rogers when he merged with Captain American?

If so, no wonder Nazis and Hydra pissed their pants as they ran.

“Excuse me.”

He would break you so why not go for broke? “You heard me. All you white boys are the same. You get with a black woman for the thrill, the story - the fetish of it. In this case, your self-righteousness kept you from following through.”

“How could you think that?” He moved back before pressing into your personal space again; face pressed dangerously close as his hands (hands you know have ripped others apart) gingerly wrapped around your wrists. “You aren’t some...fuck.”

“Language,” you smirked, unable to hold back the quip.

He mirthlessly chuckled. “Pot calling the kettle.” The softest, sweetest kiss was pressed against your temple. “I never meant for you to feel less than. I thought, I thought you just knew I will give my all and everything to you. And I mean that. You aren’t...You...I need you. I need you to be happy. I need you to feel safe and secure and desired. It’s just - these times are so different.”

“I know,” you sighed, as you loosely wrapped your arms around his waist. “And I remind myself of that daily. And, I won’t marry you just to have sex with you. I want you, Steve. I want every piece I can have. I want you to have every stupid, fucked up piece of me. I want you...I need you to be a part of me.”

His moan rumbled softly.

Yet again the air shifted as you felt seduction settle around you both. “Tell me again how you feel about me.”

Smirking, Steve snaked an arm around your lower back as he maneuvered you onto your back. Sinking into the couch cushions, you felt his warm body press into yours. “I enjoy you.”

A kiss pressed against your forehead. “I cherish you.”

A kiss between your eyebrows. “I  appreciate you. 

“I savor and adore you.” He kissed each eyelid.

Giggling, you draped your arms around his neck as you leg wraps around his. Words such as ‘need’, ‘relish’, and ‘revel’ were whispered as he pressed his lips on your cheeks and chin. 

Once again, he pressed his forehead to yours, crystal deep blue eyes bore into yours. “Though I don’t want to marry you, not yet at least,” (And your whole heart melted as your depression was banished) “I do know that I love you. And I want you.”

The pressure placed at your hips let you know that he indeed desired you. “Then why do you pull away?”

He flopped onto you. Laughing, you hugged him close. “I’m actually ready to move forward but -” The rest was muttered against your neck.

You carded your fingers through his hair as his hips involuntarily ground into yours. Cursing, you attempt to refocus at the sudden, sharp pull of lust. “Say that again.”

Muttering still, Steve refused to clarify. You gingerly pushed him up so you can hear. “One more time, Rogers.”

You take the time to fully appreciate him: his eyes, his lips, his awkward smile, and the light flush that has begun to bloom.

“I’m ready but I’m a virgin.”

_Wait. What?_


End file.
